


Anything but pizza pizza-night

by MissyRivers



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Gen, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyRivers/pseuds/MissyRivers
Summary: “PIZZA PIZZA PIZZA!!!” Clint screeched at the top of his lungs - that's it...that's the fic
Relationships: brief Stucky if you squint
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Anything but pizza pizza-night

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, you can see the word-count, it's a tiny little thing of an idea that popped into my head and I needed to write it down real quick. Expect silliness and nonsense staring the core Avengers family :)

“PIZZA PIZZA PIZZA!!!” Clint screeched at the top of his lungs as he zoomed into the common room, skidding a bit on the marble.

“Avengers Pizza Night!” he yelled to the air victoriously. “I’ve been  _ saying  _ we need it, y’all have been  _ denying  _ it, and  _ now  _ my sugar-daddy has finally come through for me!” He beamed at Tony, who wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Okay, no. There’s been no discussion of trading favors of any kind, so I don’t qualify. Just bank-rolling this lame-brain party-train,” Tony huffed.

“We can have that discussion right here right now if you want,” Clint leered, wiggling his eyebrows. Natasha smacked him over the head in passing. “Hey!”

“So where’s the pizza?” Steve asked as he strode majestically from the elevator, Bucky slinking in his shadow with his omnipresent glower needlessly warning everyone to keep a wide bubble of space around the two.

“On it’s way up, Captain,” JARVIS supplied.

“PIZZAAAAAAA!!!” Clint crowed, this time getting a pillow to the face for his volume. “Don’t care, want ‘za!”

“It’ll get here when it gets here,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Sure, thanks Dad,” Clint snarked. “When when when when wh-”

“Ah, did you hear the ding? I heard the ding, the goods are here, let’s get that,” Tony interrupted the whining, moving towards the elevator and getting clipped by a still-sliding sock-clad nationally-renowned assassin barreling past him.

A poor unsuspecting cook of some form stared in horror at the slathering blonde blocking his path out of the elevator car, and wisely gave a tentative push of a laden cart towards the raving man rather than try and move it himself. 

“Sorry about him!” Steve called to the closing doors, Clint rolling the cart with all the care of a doting parent, diverting from the kitchen and heading straight for the living room, pouting when a tiny red-head stood in his way and pointed definitively towards the dining room. Without arguing, he sullenly did as he was directed, taking an elbow to the rib from Tony and a shove from Sam so the covered dishes could be laid out for everyone without interference (or hoarding).

“Piiiiiiizza…” Clint moaned, cutting himself off with an audible snap of his jaw with Tony lifted a dommed silver lid off a tray. His eyes widened in despair and puzzlement as the rest of the food was uncovered.

“But, what, that’s not, where…” He could barely stammer questions, turning to Nat for help.

_ Nat, where’s the pizza? _ He signed in a flurry of jerky overblown movements.

“Right there, you big baby,” she sighed.  _ Tony didn’t specify what kind he was getting, did he? _ She signed much more gracefully.

Clint froze, his body tightening in rage. “Stark.” The chill in his usually jovial voice made Tony look over in mostly-bored vague interest. “What have you done?”

“Is the not-pizza here already?” Bruce asked, walking in from the stairwell.

“‘The not-pizza?’” Clint repeated, his speech clipped.

“Yup. Every type of flat dough-esk bed covered in toppings on offer in the great melting pot of NYC!” Tony grinned, gesturing at the spread. “We’ve got sushi-pizza, chocolate-pizza, portobello mushrooms with cheese personal pizzas, disks of smooshed tater-tots slathered in ketchup, hey where’s the one with the whole lobster, I call dibs-”

Clint’s roar of betrayal broke Tony’s mettle, and the billionaire ran laughing out the room, Clint pinballing off the table and the wall while swearing to shove the pineapple pizza-wheel up his...well, not his nose. Bucky watched in interest, Steve groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, Sam and Bruce squabbled over the sushi-pizza, and Nat ignored them all while loading a plate.

**Author's Note:**

> I am still alive, still writing, but the year-that-shall-not-be-named has been a beast, so things've taken a major slow-down in the actual fic-writing part of my life. But I shall perceiver, so long as you are here :)


End file.
